What a show the sun was pulling
Spreading sparkles, adding colors
Reaching warmly into my soul
Spreading delight, adding flavors
To what would’ve been just a day

But suddenly darkness descended
Stealing smiles from my face
Chilling nerves and bones
Stealing joy from my heart
Leaving me a heap of ashes

But the clouds that crowded my sun
Passed as quickly as it gathered
And the terrors that came with it
Also passed, as quickly forgotten:
I’m built to outlast them all.

I visited a watch repairer close to my place of work. A young lady shares the space with him and sometimes brings her little kids to work. I know nothing of the older man who is the watch repairer or of the lady except that she is a young mother trying to make ends meet. I observed them because I pass that road every day and sometimes brought things for her and the kids and whenever she is not there, I’d leave the stuff with the older man.

Their stall is an open space with two chairs, a work table, and a stool across for whoever wanted to sit. An umbrella tied to a wooden stand and latched to the work table provides protection from the heat but when it rains, they have to find cover elsewhere. It is not a great place to wait so customers would typically drop their items and return later for pick up. On this particular day, I decided to sit with them while he fixed my wares.

Initially, he was uncomfortable, and suggested I go and return for them later but knowing myself, I knew my best chance of taking them home that day would be to wait and take them with me. Otherwise, I may not remember until it is too late and he wouldn’t be at work the next day. He offered me the stool across from him and I asked after the young lady and her family. He said she stepped out and would be back soon. Not long, the lady returned and we exchanged pleasantries. Thereafter, she took up her seat beside the old man and they were communicating in a language I didn’t understand.

Every once in a while, she would break out in the wrenching sigh, like a burden within that try all she would, cannot be contained. It happened several times that I had to ask if everything was alright. She nodded her head, looked into my eyes, paused, tried to speak and broke down in tears. While I was trying to comfort her, the old man explained the situation. It was something very personal and touching. To a third party, it may appear as not such a big deal but in her shoes, it was breaking her wounded heart. Between the old man and me, we encouraged her until she felt better.

When my work was done, I asked for the bill and was surprised it was more than I had anticipated. The money I brought along thinking it would cover the bill and leave a generous tip fell short. I told the old man I hadn’t enough there and he said to pay whatever I had. I was wondering how we will reconcile the balance and he said, “Don’t worry about that. You always bring things for us here.” I said I didn’t want to owe him and he said, “No you don’t owe me, you’ve done much more for us.” I don’t recall giving anything to him directly. With a thankful heart, I left that day hoping to check in the next week to see how the young lady was doing.

Guess what? By the time she saw me the next week, she busted out in laughter: I suspect she recalled the show of the previous week, the things we’d shared, and how I’d teased to get laughter out of her despite the situation. I’d told her to give it a few days and the pain and shame would ease. In the very eyes that stared up in sadness just days before, I saw mirth and not an atom of pain. When a blow lands, it feels like it will never end. When the pain is fresh, it feels like it will never heal. I sincerely couldn’t hold back so I joined or rather helped her laugh at herself, I laughed along with her.

“How are you now,” I inquired when the laughter had subsided and she shyly responded, “I am well, thank you.” She was a far picture from the previous week. Together with the old man, they thanked me fervently like I did anything more than a few words of encouragement and teasing and hugging and rubbing shoulder and stuff like that. I saved the transformation in my heart: whenever you grieve, don’t ever forget that there will be tomorrow, that grief will pass with its pain and shame, that the sun will rise again, and that laughter is waiting at the corner if we will take the turn.

As we mourn, may we allow ourselves room and time knowing that pain is at its peak at the time of the incident. In a few days, weeks, months, this very sore will have lost its intensity: such is our lives. God uses time to heal; sometimes it is fast, some others it is slow, but healing is always sure when we afford our hearts the privilege to receive the strength needed for the perfection of our restoration. Whatever you are going through right now, don’t give it more power than it already has over you, your joy, and your future. May you find healing wherever you are hurting today, amen.

Glory!